


Lone Traveller

by JurassicPark



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JurassicPark/pseuds/JurassicPark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-two years old and fresh off the boat to America, John Lennon came looking for adventure, excitement and a better life and instead found depression and poverty- and a love that'll last forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> au set in 1956 so john was born in 1934
> 
> constructive criticism pls.. rating and warnings will change eventually

John Lennon stood at the front of the large ship, excitement causing his hands to shake. He’d arrive at Halifax within the hour, and then make his way to the United States. Although, how he’d actually get there, he had no idea. He supposed he’d have to hitchhike, or perhaps he could afford a train ride. He stuck his hand in his pocket, fingering the cash in his wallet. A hundred dollars! That was the most money John had ever had at one time!

John turned around, walking to the staircase that would lead down to his tiny third-class cabin. Walking down the dim hallway towards his room, John dug into his pocket for the key, pulling it out as he reached the door. He unlocked the door and stepped into his room, pulling the door closed behind him.

After entering his room, John went about, picking his few belongings off the floor and the bed. He looked at a tiny framed photo of his aunt, his cat sitting on her lap. He had taken the photo shortly before he left his hometown, knowing that the only things he’d miss about rainy Liverpool would be his Aunt Mimi and his beloved cat. Everyone else he once cared about was dead. He snorted quietly, putting the picture frame gently next to his pack. John stood up from the bed, bending over to pick a few pieces of clothing he’d left on the floor. He stuffed them into his rucksack, not seeing the point in folding them. John heard the ship’s horn blow. He hadn’t thought they’d be arriving in Nova Scotia for a while yet! He turned around, picking his pack of cigarettes off the bedside table, slipping them into his pocket. He grabbed his copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland off the table, putting it in his pack and quickly tossing the photo of his aunt in after it.

John buckled his rucksack closed and took a last look around the room, ensuring that he hadn’t left anything behind. Satisfied that he had everything, John slung the pack over his shoulder, leaving the room and heading up to the ship’s main deck. John walked back to the front of the ship, watching the harbour approach fast. He grinned, ready to begin his new life.

\- - -

Several hours later, John was wandering the city of Halifax. He’d found a pub a little while ago where he had filled his belly and now he was on the lookout for a cheap motel to spend the night. The sun was setting fast and at this rate John would be spending the night on the streets. Fuck! Every motel he’d checked was either way too expensive or had no vacancies. John kept walking, grumbling curses under his breath, until he bumped into another pedestrian. John looked up, ready to start shouting at the man who obviously hadn’t been paying attention because it couldn’t have been John’s fault, right? He stopped in his tracks, mouth hanging open. He recognized this man!

“John Lennon!” the man exclaimed, extending his hand for John to shake.

“Paul McCartney.” John replied, sounding much less happy to see his old bandmate, clasping Paul’s hand in his own and shaking briefly, before letting his hand drop to his side.

“What’re you doin’ in Canada, mate?” Paul inquired, “Have you got a place to stay? I have a little flat not too far from here, if you need.”

“I could ask the same to you Paul.” John said curtly, determined to hold a grudge against Paul. “And yes I need a place to stay, but I’m not lookin’ for charity.”

“Alright, you can pay me then,” Paul joked, grinning, “it’ll be like a bed and breakfast, Johnny, but you gotta make your own food! Come on,” he said, more serious now, “you need a place to stay and I’m just offering to help out an old friend.” John nodded hesitantly. “I live just a little away, twenty minutes walk at most.” Paul concluded, walking in the direction John had been coming from. John turned and went after him, fully intending to interrogate Paul about what the fuck he was doing in Halifax, as soon as he got over the fact that they hadn’t spoken since their incident and now Paul was talking like nothing had ever happened. John had hoped he’d never see Paul again, and to see him again in _Canada_ of all the fucking places. John was pissed, to say the least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John explores Halifax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bad summary but idk what to say rly

After arriving at Paul’s flat, John was shown to a small guest bedroom. It was a rather nice space, with a single bed in the corner and a table next to it, with a small desk in front of a window overlooking the street, a pot with some happy yellow flowers sat on the desk’s surface. John had left swiftly after a meal of bacon and eggs on toast, deciding to move on. He wanted to get to New York as soon as possible, after all. After asking around with the locals, John figured he’d have to find his way to the city of Moncton, and then down to St. John, and even farther south to get to Maine. Several people he had spoken to had told John that, if he wasn’t in a rush, he should take a detour to Quebec, to visit Montreal and Quebec city. In that case he wouldn’t be going to St John, instead stopping by various tiny communities before moving on.

John figured that he may as well go to Quebec, as he wasn’t actually in any rush. He just wanted to get away from Paul as soon as possible. The locals had told him that a train would take him to Moncton, and then he’d likely have to hitchhike his way to a town with a station and take another train to Quebec city and then yet another to Montreal. John figured each train ticket would cost him between five and ten dollars, meaning, out of the ninety-eight dollars he had left, he should put twenty or maybe even thirty dollars aside for train fare, unless he wanted to hitchhike, which he most definitely would, because he still had to have money for lodging and food.

John figured he should probably leave Halifax in the next few days, as Quebec was a pretty huge detour, maybe tomorrow he’d get himself a train ticket.

John looked up, blinking, as he was torn away from his thoughts by the loud wails of a flock seagulls. He sniffed, pulling his carton of cigarettes from his breast pocket, shaking one out and sticking it between his thin lips. He lit up, taking a deep drag before getting up from his seat on a wooden bench in a rather beautiful green park, full of trees just beginning to change colour with Fall. John slung his rucksack back over his shoulders before checking the time on the silver watch around his wrist. Six o’clock. He ought to go find somewhere to have dinner, and then a place to spend the night. Because there was no way in hell he’d be going back to Paul’s apartment.

John ventured back to the city’s main street, where he was most likely to find a restaurant or bar to have a meal. John made his way up the street, soon finding a pub that didn’t look too busy. He walked up to the bar, ordering a scotch and coke and some fish and chips. That was the good thing about being right on the coast, he supposed. The seafood was plentiful and relatively cheap, and John loved seafood. Especially fried fish, though that may just have been a result of where he came from. Minutes later, John was settling down at a small table, food and drink in front of him. John had just begun eating, fingers covered in fish grease as he hadn’t bothered with utensils, when he heard someone sit down across from him. He looked up, mouth still full of fish, to see a pretty brunette seated across from him.

“Hello.” she greeted him, and John swallowed, wiping his fingers on a napkin before replying.

“Hi,” he said, “what’s your name?”

“Brenda,” she told him, “and what’s yours?” Brenda asked him.

“John.” he replied and she nodded.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Brenda said, more a statement than an actual question. John just shook his head, going back to his fish.

\- - -

Half an hour later and John was laying on top of Brenda in her bed, thrusting his hips roughly into her. And perhaps he was being a little _too_ rough but, fuck, was he ever horny! He hadn’t fucked anyone or even had his dick sucked in well over a week. John started pounding faster, hypersensitive to the sound of Brenda’s moans, but thinking only of his own pleasure. He sped up even further, to the point where the entire bed was jittering on the floor slightly, the headboard thumping against the wall. John growled into Brenda’s neck, his climax fast approaching. He heard her give a loud moan, and arch into his body and he let go, his cock pulsing spurts of come into the condom Brenda had insisted John wear.

- - -

After his much-needed shag, John had fallen asleep in Brenda’s bed and snuck out in the early morning, before the sun had even risen. Currently, he was making his way to the train station, intending to buy a ticket to Moncton.

Upon arriving at the station, John discovered that it was still closed for the night. Not much of a surprise considering it was only five in the morning. John sighed, taking a seat on a bench not far from the ticket booths. As he sat waiting, John went into his pack, pulling out the sketchbook and pencils he’d brought along with him. He put the pencil to the paper, drawing disfigured cartoon characters until he felt something pressing against his leg, startling him. John looked down and saw a big orange cat staring at him with narrow light-green eyes.

“Hello, pussy.” John cooed, bringing his hand down to pet the cat’s thick fur. Its pelt was matted and dirty, and its ears were ragged at the edges, so John figured it had been an alley cat its whole life. The cat hopped up onto the bench, sitting beside John and curling its tail neatly around muddy white paws. It sat staring straight forward at the train tracks and John grinned to himself, he was a big softie when it came to cats. He picked up his sketchbook and pencil, drawing out a rough sketch of the unmoving cat, before slowly fleshing it out, drawing every little detail such as the small scars around its grey muzzle.

By the time he had finished his drawing, the train station was waking up. Several people stood or sat on benches, and John stood up, tucking his precious sketchbook away and bidding the unmoving cat goodbye with a gentle pat on its head.

John quickly walked to the ticket booth, requesting a one-way ticket to Moncton. The man inside the booth told him would cost five dollars and twenty-nine cents. John sighed, fishing in his wallet for the money. That was more expensive then he’d hoped, but no more than he’d expected. John was handed his ticket and decided to settle back on his bench. He noticed the cat had gone and an old lady had taken its place. He sat down next to her, inspecting his ticket. His train would leave at seven-thirty am, and it was currently six. He huffed, wondering what on earth he was to do at a train station for an hour and a half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter this time, I'll make an effort for even longer chapters.. i will try to update weekly after this chapter, hopefully
> 
> i love cats can u tell


End file.
